Fourth, Fifth, Sixth
by BallpointNym
Summary: The Angels chip away steadily at their goal. They did not expect an Irken to follow them. Most troubling.
1. The Nightmarish Angel Attack

Hall NE-ll2-3457-delta, known colloquially as "the Tallests' fully automated ego-stroker" (It translated better in Irken), was placed squarely as Conventia's most well funded and state-of-the-art building. To a human observer (assuming they hadn't suffocated in the thin atmosphere) the hall would proclaim itself an eyesore. There was the garish royal purple, clashing with every building it could manage (not to mention the sky), the soulless-eyed animatronic mascot that crackled: "GALACTIC CONQUEST IS HERE", like a sideshow operator, and, of course, the ugly cyberpunk domed roof. To an Irken, inversely, it was an architectural masterpiece, rivaled only by Imperial palace, the Grand courthouse, and the Massive (if one counted ships). Such an arena was the only place suitable for the launch of Operation Impending Doom II, and any lesser species who disagreed could go get subjugated all night long.

Here the swarm of Irkens funneled in like a unearthed ant-colony, their antennae brushing together and exciting each other, like a locust's swarm, their eyes wide and expectant like a praying mantis anticipating her mates' tasty neck. They looked a lot like bugs, is the point.

But backstage, the Almighty Tallest resembled nervous songbirds.

"For Irks' sake, we have to do _something_," Tallest Red half-shouted, his normally reassuring and commanding voice very nearly cracking.

"You've said that five times in the LAST HOUR," Screamed Tallest Purple, whose' threshold for panic was far, far lower than co-supreme-commander. Ironically, he was several fractions of a centimeter taller.

"You've been keeping count?" Red asked, fighting to stay calm as his semi-friend's arms flailed like kelp in a strong current.

"THAT'S HARDLY IMPORTANT," Purple shrieked. He was really getting worked up now. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE RATIONAL ONE. WITHOUT YOU WE ARE _NOTHING. __**NOTHING.**_**"**

"I'm flattered, but CALM THE F***K DOWN!" Red shouted back. Purple slipped into the corner, whimpering.

"We're doomed now," he said, eyes glazing over, "Doomed like a defective on a suicide mission. Doomed as a peaceful race that just wants to be friends." He forced his knees into his cheeks, exposing combed teeth that were as gritted as they'd ever be. When Red made and awkward move to comfort him, Purple choked, "Just listen to the damn report again. Control Brain! Activate last spoken report."

"_Affirmative, tallest Purple_," the organic computer confirmed, "_Our sources have indicated that Nehindei have been discovered alive on a planet in galaxy Sang-Gannek, designated by locals as "Earth". Experts traced the arrival to around 4 billion standard years,__ and scientific evidence points to a 50:50 chance of awakening by the Nehindei threat."_

Red bit his dry and scaly lip. "Oh Irk, 50-50. They'll wake up and find out who killed the rest and we'll have to go to a _press conference_ once the news gets out, and-"

"CALM DOWN," Purple yelped, violently switching his opinion, mostly out of nessecity "IF YOU'RE NOT GONNA BE THE CALM ONE, I AM. THIS IS NOT GETTING OUT." He took a breath. "Come on, Red, 50:50 isn't that bad. They might not even get their revenge during our reign, and-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Red held up is spindly claws, his eyes shut in frustration "Mass genocide of an entire species will not sit well with said species. If the Nehindei wake up, they aren't going to waste time."

"Which is why we won't let 'em," Purple slammed one fist into another. It hurt pretty badly, but he liked the confidence it gave him. "I say we find 'em and blow 'em up while they're weak. They'll be pretty pathetic, come on, it can't be that many.."

Red took a deep breath. He would not be upstaged in composure by his co-tallest. "Fine," he said, but we'd better get a demolition crew on this as soon as possible."

Millions of light years away, and several hours later, various transmitions on various wavelengths of Electromagnetic and Hyperspacial energy wracked the towers of the Irken-Occupied Raxicoricafalipatiorious. In a bureaucratic office, two members of the resident species shared a cubical, relaying messages in sweathouse conditions, and trying to stay out of trouble with Imperial slave drivers.

"Hey Paul," one of them whispered, scratching his small chin with his black, claws the consistency of steel. He shifted his wait, pressing an annoyed Paul into the opposite wall. "I really-oh, sorry man- I really think that now would be a good time to pull a switchy."

His inner eyelids spurted with mucous, a facial cue equivalent to the human grin.

"If you say so, Jeremy," Paul sighed. "Lets see…" he leaned towards the next two are coordinates… one of them is a suicide mission for a defective invader… Zim it looks like, I've heard of him. The other is top-secret- completely encoded."

"I can see that, Paul," Jeremy grumbled, "let's just alternate their destinations before the manager comes around."

They did, and somewhere in space, a small Irken, who would have otherwise been sent to some barren asteroid, got a lucky break. "Planet… Earth," he grinned at the readout on his Voot Cruises' computer. "Soon you will meet your destruction, followedpromptlyby DDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!"

A pause. Then his cabin-mate, a grubby SIR-unit, smiled, "I'm gonna sing the doom song now,"

On said planet earth, six months later, just as a confused demolition crew destroyed said barren asteroid (but saw no Nehindei), an all-too familiar human hung up an all-too familiar phone, turning to face an all-too familliar train station. He paced out onto the street, unaware of the pleasant breeze, even of his own motion. Then, shaking, he recognized the car he had been given a detailed description of. The door of the car opened. A man with tinted goggles was in the drivers' seat.

"Shinji Ikari?"

"Yes?"

"Hello. I used to work with your father. You are in ABSOLUTE PERIL!"

"What?"

"Oh, it's nothing. These are my children. Say hello, extensions of my gEEEEnes!"

Shinji peered into the back. Indeed, two individuals, Caucasian he noted, and roughly his age, sat there.

"Can't talk, found secret level," droned a bored looking girl in Goth clothing.

"Wow, your Gendo's son?" chirped a bespectacled boy in a trench coat, beaming in awe, "Are the reports about hell spawn dissection true? What about the beastmen-fighting fusion mecha?" his Japanese was far more accented than his sister's and father's, but the grammar was all right.

The man whom Shinji could only guess was professor Membrane totted to himself, and said- "Get in, we're going to NERV. If we don't die TERRRRRRIBLE DEATHS along the way!" he added.

The Ikari boy, still silent, crawled into the backseat. The car smelled of formaldehyde and tobacco. He wished he had asked his father for more details.

_...  
><em>

_ A light went on. An organism wrenched itself from its' now useless shell. Bubbles of air tickled something that could probably be called skin. The river bottom was damp and murky, with little VERMIN flitting past, unceasing, reeking of the Black Moon. It reeked of the black moon, having spent so long in this place. It could smell the Father faintly, and the intruder, the usurper. The father had traveled too far to fail, and now the usurpers' roots had polluted this world. No matter. It could smell her, too. She was closer- he would destroy her before he freed the Father. Then he and his family would reclaim this husk in the name of the Nehindei._

_ Even if they had to do some weeding._

_A Tokyo-3 overpass, 3:13 PM:_

"Yeppp- it's looking soviet to me," Membrane breathed, his goggles touching expensive-looking binoculars. He leaned over the overlook, lab coat flitting in the wind, unruly hair following it. His son, who had introduced himself as Dib, climbed out of the car and to his fathers' side.

"The Soviets didn't have that kind of technology. And, you know they no longer exist," he insisted.

Membrane sounded irritatingly cheery when he said, "Your wrong on both accounts! That's their watermark their- that bird-skull thing," he pointed. "Can't possibly be of alien source, son, its' got to be a super weapon go awry." Shinji still couldn't see the Angel that they had apparently spotted, but was too nervous to get out of the car. It almost felt like he would go mad once he saw it, like one of those Lovecraft horrors he had read in his spare time- that had been a bad choice, he hadn't slept for days.

Speaking of the macabre, the Goth girl, Gaz, next to the Ikari boy remained unresponsive to her famillies' squabbling. He had noticed when he sat down that she had some type of portable video game hidden by her upturned knees. She had provided no source of comfort, with purple, harmful looking hair, and eyes that served the same function as a rattlesnakes' diamondback. Shinji decided to swallow his fear and witness the enigmatic Angel.

It didn't look as bad as he'd have thought. Humanoid even, rather like a Kaiju. _Very_ like a Kaiju, given how if seemed to destroy everything it touched. Shinji was uncomfortably aware of its' closeness. As he glanced at Membranes' binoculars, he wondered why _anyone_ would want to get a more detailed look. The professor and Dib were arguing something about the improbability of the arising of organic molecules, let alone ones that would reach such a humanoid shape, when a great _FUHM_ interrupted the professor.

"Right, back in the car kids, it's not quite as safe as I thought," Membrane said abruptly, turning on his heel. _Weren't you talking about mortal peril? _Shinji thought. Back into suffocating vehicle, the Ikari tried not to succumb too much to fear. The NERV headquarters were supposed to be specially guarded against Angels, but rational thought was not serving as much of a help as he would have liked.

_The forest around Tokyo 3, 3:35 PM: _

"GIR! STATUS REPORT!" Zim barked.

"I saw a giiiant whirlybirdie," GIR beamed.

Zim was silent. The hidden potential that his Tallest had convinced him of had yet to show itself in GIR. The SIR was still in his deceptive-mode. Perhaps a malfunction had locked the tiny robot in a state of perpetual stupidity- the invader would have to look into it. Right now, he was focusing on the quaint little planet that they had claimed as future Irken soil. The Voot had landed in some mountainous area where they had tracked an interesting energy source. The land was heavily forested with photosynthetic life.

Zim scowled. Lush greenery all around, skies of _blue _goddamnit (true irken loyalists hated that color), and an overabundance of H20 set him on edge. This had been no humoring mission- the tallest had seriously meant to test him. Well, he would pass as many flying colors as a swarm of rainbow Reipins.

"Gir, stay here, I'm scouting the area." The tiny robot giggled, nodded, then scooped some moss into his mouth. Rolling his compound eyes, Zim set out.

The invader pulled himself over rocks and roots, glaring knives at passing animals, but shaking with unease inside. This planet had no shortage of _disgusting_ Carbon-Based life, and it hawked it at every opportunity. Finally, cursing, he made it to a clearing. The sunlight made him blink (oh how he hated blinking) and the incessant noise of insect life had crossed the boundary from alien and disturbing to enraging and annoying.

That was when he knew it would be even more the mission he had thought it would be. Because, crushing a pitiful civilization underfoot, was the first Nehindei Zim had seen in his life, the source of the energy that had brought them to this side of the planet. And after the schlock, the fear, the _hatred_ had passed, he smiled wickedly to himself. Fate had given him the greatest test of all, had he didn't even need to study to know an A+ was in store.

_NERV HQ, 3:50 am. _

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME IT WAS _UNDERGROUND, _DAD" Dib beamed, taking in the orange hue of the expansive cavern that the party of four were now bathed in.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" Membrane jovially said, his lab coat and goggles obscuring any complex expression, "I know how much you like the bases of paramilitary secret organizations. And good job remembering to exclaim in Japanese!"

Shinji suppressed a pang of envy. Before, he had not known any other boys his age with super scientist fathers, and had had no standard with to judge he and his dads' relationship. _Membrane_ at least _tried _with _his_ kids, and he was busier than Gendo. _No, _Shinji thought, _I still don't know how busy my father is. Bad thoughts, very bad thoughts. _

He tried focusing on the astoundingly huge central chamber, but the moving walkway had already deposited them into a nondescript tunnel. Ikari tried to occupy himself by studying his companions. Dib was shaking in happy anticipation, Membrane was unreadable when he was silent, and Gaz looked apathetic and frankly furious. Her father had forbidden her from her game while they toured NERV, and she had obeyed unhesitatingly, but still rather grudgingly. Perhaps there was still some conflict in this family.

They arrived at an elevator. Dib let out a shriek of enjoyment he had been holding in, then laughed nervously, self-conscious. In the car, he had talked nonstop about his conspiracy theories, his paranormal fascination, his interest in the goings-on of NERV, his excitement when he learned his father was staging his next project their, his happy surprise at the fact that he was allowed to come with. Shinji hadn't been able to get a single word out, which was fine with him. He didn't believe most of the things Dib had said about NERVs' ties with intergalactic conspiracy, but he had been able to accept the possibility of Angels being extraterrestrial, even if it was astounding. When Dib had asked him if he knew anything about the organizations' inner workings, Shinji had shaken his head. Membrane's son had looked disappointed, but had shaken it off in favor of rattling on about how the Judeo-Christian god was actually and advanced Bio-Computer run by Mole-people.

Now Shinji walked, shaking, off the elevator, observing a large pool of liquid that appeared a strange, industrial orange. He couldn't tell if it was the lighting, or if the fluid was indeed that color. A longhaired, kind looking woman, who smiled at the children, made to greet professor Membrane as he stepped off the lift.

"Professor Membrane-Sama! An old friend of the Commander, correct? Much thanks for making the long trip from the States. I hear you're quite famous there." She bowed politely. Membrane returned the gesture.

"It was no effort. Old Gendo and I haven't even spoken since second impact; we've been so busy with our respective roles in helping humanity get back in the game. It will be good to talk again," he said. "I have become rather well known for my endeavors, haven't I? So be it, all that matters is the cold hard hand of science reaching a warm and loving one out to help our species. May I ask your name?"

Shinji couldn't tell if the mixed metaphor was a joke. The woman couldn't either. She blinked. "Uh- Well- Captain Misato Katsuragi. I was going be Shinji's transport, before you offered. I hope you don't feel you had too."

"Not al all!" beamed Membrane, "A favor for a colleague is the highest honor. This is the boy, right here."

Misato turned on her heal towards a silent Shinji and said, "A pleasure, Mister Ikari. Can I call you Shinji-Kun?"

"What- oh, yes. The pleasure is all mine, Captain Katsuragi." He gave a severely polite bow.

"Misato, if you don't mind. Now, these must be your children, Professor?" She looked around. Dib was staring as intensely at the orange liquid as Gaz was staring unemotianally.

"What? Oh, yes. Dib Maltenson, Captain-Sama," Dib said, shocked out of his fascination. "And this is Gaz, my sister." Gaz grunted. Such an attitude with that girl, Shinji thought, he felt embarrassed to be in the same room with her.

Instead of the expected shock or outrage, Misato just chuckled. "So your last name isn't Membrane, huh? Is that like a stage name, Professor?"

What a laid-back women this was. Perhaps she had been given some sort of dossier detailing what to expect from the visitors. How much did she already know about him? Could she already know why he was here, a fact that Shinji was still in the dark about?

As if reading his mind, she said, still smiling "You children are all part of a great service to the world. I hope you are aware of that, and of the responsibility."

Dib looked as perplexed as Shinji. Gaz looked as blank as herself. Membrane giggled slightly. Now it was Misatos' turn for confusion.

"I- I was just remembering a joke. Shall we proceed to the main event?"

The captain reclaimed her smile. "Of Course!"

_Somewhere in America, 1:43 AM:_

"Let me tell you about freedom, and the cruel, taunting definition society gives the word."

Not one child didn't groan. Ms. Bitters had obviously forgotten the content of yesterday's lecture, which had begun exactly like this. As the decrepit middle school teacher droned on about topics children this age should truly not grasp the horror of, most students occupied themselves with either zoning out, giggling with friends, or just accepting the bleak nature of reality that Bitters advertised. Staring around the room would have done no good- it was grimy, sparsely furnished, and the sickest shade of pale green ever vomited. However, one kid, who will be referred to as "Lizardboy," dared to let his gaze drift.

He noticed something important.

"Where's Dib?" Lizardboy asked.

Ms. Bitters stopped daring the children to go, "run around naked, go on, see if humanity cares-" as her gaze locked on the boy.

"Dibhas moved." She said. It should have been a simple phrase, but her tone held so much contempt; it was like a three-hundred page novel of why he shouldn't opened have opened his wide mouth.

Lizardboy, remembering his place, gulping and flop sweating, nodded.

"Now if you would kindly let me continue with my thankless job, we could get into the dynamics of why communism is just as bad as anything else, and should not be dyscriminat-"

But her phone rang.

Such was Bitters' fury that one eyebrow movement could hush the entire class. Hand shaking, she reached for the receiver, and said into it, indignant beyond believe, "Yessssss?"

Her eyes grew wide.

She said: "Oh. Oh, I see. Yes. He didn't. Well too bad. Yes, dear. Yes, I'll come right over. Japan, was it? Yes, I can never keep track. Which Tokyo? Don't take that tone with _me _young lady. All right, fine. That dunderhead will have to be taught a lesson in manners. Without them we are pathetic- yes all right, I'll get a job at the school. And dear? Stop wearing that garish purple crucifix. It makes you look like a whore."

She melted into the shadows, leaving (though the children could of course could not recognize it) a distinct smell of LCL.

_NERV headquarters, 3:00 pm:_

"Huminahuminahumina," Dib gibbered. "What. What. What. This is- you can't deny-giant lizard-" he stood, mouth agape, witnessing the majesty of a futuristic Mecha suspended up to its' shoulders in the same orange liquid.

He turned to membrane, squeaking, almost. "Me… pilot…exactly what I thought- Me, PILOT? PIIIIILOT?"

Membranes' jovial laugh gave goose bumps to everyone in the room. "Of course, you've been genetically poised for it since the beginning! Of your LIFE that is!" He held up an overdramatic finger, one hand on his hip, very much recalling a small boy who was predisposed for digging. "Wait, hold on."

The professor made an impossible leap to the top of the gesture. This added very much to the surreality of the situation, thought Shinji. It might have been a cliché, but the Ikari boy might be able to consider the possibility that he was asleep.

Now, actually standing on the head of the thing, Membrane resumed the gesture. "OFFSPRING! YOUR MOTHER MAAAAAY BE DEAD, BUT SHE LIVES ON IN YOUR HEEEEEEART, AND IN THE SPIRAL- Hello Gendo!"

He looked behind him, and Shinji's father looked back. Shinji tensed. Despite all the bizarreness of the day, this was still his dad, the major incentive for this trip. Should he say something?"

"Shinji," Gendo Ikari boomed across the hangar, pushing Membrane aside after nodding curtly. His orange glasses and chinstrap should have been comical. Thousands of words couldn't say why they were the opposite. "Have they told you that you will be piloting one of these?" He tapped the Mecha with his impeccably managed boot.

"What!" No. No, he had to escape from this distorted dream world before he went as loopy as that professor.

"He doesn't know either?" Katsuragi gasped. "Sir, are you sure-"

"That's enough, Captain," Gendo interrupted, his gaze still on Shinji. "Son, all of the Children here, including you, have been selected for the piloting of these machines. I'm not going through the motions here- you have a choice: stay of leave. Make it now."

"STAY HERE!" Dib had finally regained coherent speech, and was using it to babble up a storm. Shinji understood very little of it, as the American boy, in his excitement, had lapsed back into his first language.

What Shinji didn't hear was: "YOU HAVE TO DO THIS WITH ME, MAN! THIS IS THE OPPORTUNITY OF YOUR LIFE. CHILDREN WILL SING SONGS ABOUT YOU. TEENAGERS WILL RIGHT SEXY AND BADASS FANFIC ABOUT YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ABOUT ME!"

The pressure on Shinji's flimsy will nearly overrided his reasoning ability and self-preservation, but sanity gave one last protest.

"No- no it's a ridiculous assumption to think I could pilot something like that! I've never _seen _something so- it's just- it's just="

"So be it. Membranes children will be enough, I suppose. I did not know he was bringing two. You may leave." His Father said, blankly. Almost crying for his expendability and humiliation, Shinji was escorted out of the room by Captain Katsuragi. Gaz watched her try to tentatively comfort the Ikari boy as they left, then turned to face her father, who said, "It's not much of a loss. You couldn't get me to pilot one of those things in a QUADRIIIIILION EONS."

"Hey," said Dib. His father ignored him, while Gaz turned her steely squint to Gendo.

"You said 'both' children," she asked, "does that mean I'm piloting too?"

Her brother's gaze snapped onto Gaz.

"Yes," said Commander Ikari.

"Sweet."

_A Tokyo-3 Middle School Building, Retracted into the Geofront, 4:21 PM:_

"This sucks. It just sucks, it's rampant false advertising is what it is."

"Is it?" Toji grumbled, avoiding eye contact with the ranting Kensuke. The boy would work himself into an apoplectic fit if NERV pulled any more classification methods with the current disaster. "I seem to remember you using that phrase more than once, and, I'm not gonna lie, it gets stale.

Kensuke was far from listening. "And look at that new kid. Skin condition my ass, the poor guy has to have been scarred in some horrible accident covered up because it's details would spill too many secrets!"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Toji half-yelled, getting fed-up.

"Toji, Toji, Toji," Kensuke sighed with maddening patronization, "It's not that simple. I could be assassinated for even _thinking_-"

"Excuse me?"

Toji and Kensuke both froze. Aforementioned "new kid" had just invaded their personal space in the confining, glorified holding-pen of a room. His hideous mutation was all the worse up close. Green, scaly skin, almost no extremities, those _huge eyes_… Toji almost couldn't stomach it. The fact that the boy- Zim, his name was-was scowling didn't help. He resisted the nasty human impulse to get as far away from the freak as possible, instead blinking for a few seconds and saying, "Yeah?"

"I couldn't help overhear your conversation. Apparently you think that my deviating visage is the result of some hideous abnormal occurrence of events. This is false. My only ABNORMALITY is the result of unfortunate genetic accident. Anyone who thinks it is anything more is either a SNIVILING LIAR or a DELUUUUUUUUDED PIECE OF ANTENNEA WAX. Good day to you sirs."

They waited for him to get out of earshot, then Toji said, "He's worse that the new teacher."

"You think they're-"

"I'm not having this conversation."

_NERV, EVA Hangar, 7:28 PM:_

"Come on," Dib pleaded.

"No," Said Ritsuko Akagi, head of NERV's scientific branch, who had introduced herself over the EVA's (or so the mecha was called) radio.

"Please?" Dib asked again.

"No means a thousand times no. I'm not up for negotiating," Akagi answered. "We are disposing of the Angel in a classified manner, no dissection necessary." The pilot could almost hear her pinch the bridge of her nose.

"But you're a scientist! You would understand our need to plunge into the unknown," the boy continued to insist. "It's been my dream to on-sight dissect an angel since, like, a month ago!"

"The Angels are far too dangerous for any formal examination. We still aren't entirely sure what qualifies one as 'dead' or not," Ritsuko said, forcefully.

"That's exactly what I would find out!"

No answer. Grumbling, Dib looked around the cockpit. The design really was a work of art, everything about this beautiful machine. That was why it absolutely _had_ to be reverse engineered from some kind of extraterrestrial. Or perhaps a demon. Those fins certainly recalled natives of the eighth circle, but the head starkly reminded one of Styxian abyssals. But no, Mortos Der Soulstealer had all wiped them out in the third war of .

"That's just the LCL," explained Ritsuko, over the radio. She probably had withheld the information to get back at the Child. "It'll act just like oxygen. You'll get used to it fairly fast."

Dib tentatively let the strange fluid enter his lungs. It tasted disgusting, but it reminded him of something… a smell he associated with _school _of all places.

"Alright Dib, we will initiate synchronization in 3…2….

_Tokyo 3, 7:46 PM:_

Zim crawled through bleak rubble and dust, his PAKS' air filter and spider legs making the journey that much easier. Escaping the Geofront had been a breeze, though this journey was slightly more difficult. The invaders' single handed-capture and killing of the fearsome Nehindei would be so glorious; he had trouble focusing on the task at hand, and had slipped, once or twice. The Irken followed weak pulses of AT energy, tracking down the beast. _Soon, very soon…_

The pulse grew stronger and stronger, until, at last, he saw it- but no, this wasn't it, this was some giant finbeast with a lizard head. It resembled no Nehindei Zim had seen in history files, and yet its' gargantuan frame radiated AT like nobodies' business. Zim had trouble deciding whether or not he was curious or angry, but once he decided on angry, he went all out with it.

"Hey. Hey you there. Stop existing. You're confusing me."

The Colossus turned, and the invader thought that maybe there was the _slightest inkling of a probability_ that he had gotten himself in over his head.

The thing stood there, impassive, resolute, and its' eyes were focused right on Zim.

Then it began to run.

Zim followed suit, away from it.

Screaming.

He ducked through caves of refuse, jungles of misplaced cables, refusing to look back for fear of losing kinetic momentum. He could hear footsteps, _jogging _footsteps, so ominous that they might as well belong to the Massive itself. Just when Zim thought he had found a safe hiding place under a misplaced wall or an overturned dumpster, the beast had found him, cowering, and he had resumed sprinting. Finally, when he could run no more, it picked him up, brought Zim to its' face, and inspected the little invader like a curious child does a to gift they haven't opened. Then, ignoring the Irken's frenzied struggling, it collapsed.

The pilot had not noticed its' missing cable, or NERVs' radio protests. All that mattered was the _Actual intelligent alien life_ that he had found, living and breathing. Too bad he couldn't say the same for the EVA, he thought, unconsciousness slipping in.


	2. Beastest Friend

** Ooh, this is oodles fun to right! Same disclaimer as the first page, I haven't acquired either work in the time between updates.**

_Space, near Earth, time undefined:_

Far, far out in an inky vacuum, the planet Earth grew larger in an invaders' viewport. Blue-green, swirly atmosphere, typical. If you've seen one terrestrial planet, you've seen them all.

Hearing one is different.

The invaders' antennae had never once taken part in the pleasure of such transmissions. To think that such a small, undeveloped world could produce an achievement of this magnitude, and then broadcast it into space, as if desperate for attention and an identity among several trillion siblings. Joyful tones, soft and loud at the same time, it seemed, like the paradox of photons and light waves. What instruments could produce such tones? Surely most, if not all of them, had to be non-synthetic. The Irken hoped he had time during his mission to witness the working of this piece, or one like it, live.

"Are you hearing this, MR-vin?" the Invader asked to a grubby SIR unit, which stared pointedly away from the earth, as if the planet was just some annoying distraction from its' thoughts.

"Yes, I am, Invader Tab. And I'm trying not to. It sounds so disgustingly upbeat," the unit groaned. Its' parts were worn weary, its' voice in the same condition. Every word despondent and droning Tab had learned in the months they had travelled together not to voice any sympathy to Marvin; at best the robot would sight theatrically, at worst he would launch into a pseudo-philosophical tirade that would last the better part of an Irken day.

That voyage was past Tab now. Just when he was convinced he would make a crazed break from those cramped surroundings into space, they had arrived. Old invigoration began to pulse again in the Invaders' veins. _I am here, Zim- back from Dirt, back reclaim my rightful title, back to- the hell, is that AT energy? _

It was.

"Slight detour Marvin," Tab exclaimed, to which the robot managed a grunt, "We will be investigating this mysterious signal. Perhaps we will even run into Zim, doing the same thing?"

Another grunt.

"In any case, let us see the common names for that area… hmm, incoming data from this "internet"… Alright, from now on, to get in practice, we will refer to each other as Kaworu and Chouji Nagisa."

"I get to be Chouji," Marvin said, "It sounds somewhat less horrible to say than the former."

_Tokyo-3 Junior High, 7:23 AM:_

"Greetings, foreign children. I am here due to your previous teachers' disappearance, and probable death. He will not be missed," said Bitters-Sensei, gesturing to her name on the board in Kanji. The class didn't quite know how to take this odd manner of being addressed, so they remained silent. The strange, decrepit Gaijin woman spoke fluent Japanese, but word was that she used no honorifics when addressing members of the staff. Shinji wondered what was up with the school board- first the creepy green student in his class, now their new teacher, who managed to say such disturbing things while keeping a straight, even livid, face.

"If I may, Bitters-Sensei," said Hikari Horaki, resident typical class rep, "Was that meant as a joke, or-"

"No it was _not _meant as a joke, little miss Simpleton, as any sane being could have told through my tone of voice," Bitters snapped, an accusatory, yellow fingernail jumping at the speed of light towards Hikari.

The class rep stammered something about protocol, doubtless her only refuge in times of crisis.

Bitters sneered, if one could sneer without the basest hint of amusement. "You weakling Asians are all the same, almost as bad as American upstarts," she whispered hoarsely, still loud enough for everyone to hear, "Be that as it may, you will all be expected to overcome base instincts and grow the spines that your ridiculous teenage 'Ah-Nee-May'"-she said it like it was a bad taste on her forked tongue-"heroes seem to have you pegged at."

Hikari mouthed several empty syllables. "And my name is _Bitters, _not _Bittelisu. _Learn english, child, I learned Japanese," the teacher finished as an afterthought. "Let's see if they'll accept a transfer of you to Gaten City, to set an example. I'll take my time filing the paperwork, so you can say goodbye to your horrible friends. You!" she pointed to Zim. "I hate you less than the others. You're our new class representative."

Zim nodded slowly, not listening. "Yes, yes," he mused, "And how prepared, would you say, is earth for…" he paused, looking like he was pretending to think, "A, uh, full scale alien invasion?"

A couple kids snorted. Bitters raised an eyebrow. Her coke-bottle glasses had yellow, opaque lenses. Combined with the expression, they really could shut a class up fast.

"And just what is the source of such frivolity?" The teacher asked. "You there," she pointed at a kid in the front row, "You tell me! You were the loudest!"

The student gulped, loud as he could, and stammered, "Well, I uh… uhhhh… its'… he just asked the same question to the last teacher, on his first day, m-ma'am."

"Did he nowww?" the Sensei purred, like a grave supervillain. "Zim, you may join me, Hikari, and Shinji in lunch detention."

"What? Why me?" Shinji squeaked, jumping a little in his seat.

"Because you remind me of Napoleon Bonaparte. He was a real pussy," Bitters answered, as if it were obvious. Shinji nodded and drooped his head. He didn't see Zim stroke his own chin- or chuckle to himself.

_Same Location, 11:39 AM:_

"Next, the absorbency test," Zim announced.

Shinji stared apprehensive daggers at the puddle of milk on his desk. "You want me to clean it up- OW!"

The diminutive green boy had slammed Ikari's head into the table. "Good, good," Zim said, ignoring Ms. Bitters' shouts for silence, "Your well-groomed hair soaks up the moisture most adequately." He pulled a stunned Shinji up into a sitting position. The newer kid blinked the milk out of one eye, groaning.

"THAT WIIIILLLL DOOOOO!" Zim announced, letting Shinji's head droop again, and prompting the teacher to yell_ "Quiet!" _again from over her book. "You have proved worthy for the friendship material of ZIM. I will call you. Maybe we can dangle ourselves sometime, as all the frigid children do."

Shinji was only half-listening to the nonsense. He really didn't need any new friends right now, especially full on insane, mutant ones. He asked, tentatively, "Uh… Zim, was it?"

"HMMM?" The green boy looked down, the manic glint to end all glints in his eye.

"Well," Ikari said, avoiding eye contact, "You just see- its' really- why do you need me for a friend, anyway? I'm not even that good at being one, I don't think, and-"

"You see that girl there?" Zim interrupted, hunching over Shinji's desk, and pointing to Hikari. She was eating a sandwich calmly, still dumbstruck by her misfortune. "I have heard her describe myself as a- quote, 'friendless freak-boy,' end quote. I have decided, that in order to be perceived as a quintessential non-freak, I must have friends. Enter: You!" He gestured at Shinji, who quickly looked to the front desk, where Bitters had stopped trying to keep the room in silence.

"You're lack of will, and our mutual outsider status are perfect attributes." Zim continued as he marched around Shinji's desk, hands behind his back, "The fact that we share punishment presented the opportunity of testing, and you've passed with flying colors. Now, I will not bother you, but it should be stated, loudly if need be, at least 9 times a day that you and I are friendhumans by each of the two party members in question. Is that understood, minion?"

"Minion?" Ikari looked up.

"Yes. Now, out of my sight."

"But we're both in deten-"

"LEAVE, EARTH TROLL."

_Misato Katsuragi's Apartment, 3:57 PM:_

"Afternoon Shinji-kun! How was-"

"Why am I still here?"

Misato tensed. This was of course what she'd expected, but she evidently should have expected it more. Shinji looked at here, blank faced. She stared back, to him a silhouette created by the blinding light from her sparse lodgings.

"Your father thinks that it- that it's best if you stay in Tokyo-3," she answered after enough awkward to choke a cat. "Just in case you change your mind. I personally am against it," she added quickly. Shinji didn't move one muscle in his face.

Just then, the tension broke. The breaking sounded like this.

"GIR! GIR! WE DO NOT DEFICATE IN OTHER'S DWELLINGS. EVEN IF THEY ARE INFERIOR GRIME-JUNKIES!"

A greenish blur ran up the darkened stairs, and, without stopping for breath, said to Misato, "Do you have any unhealthy food-like substance? I need to placate my dog"

The muscles in Shinji's face seemed to be working just fine now. "Z-Zim- Why? I… who?"

"Well, I was in the neighborhood, walking my INSUBORDINATE CANINE," he glared down the stair flight, "When I happened upon your temporary dwelling."

"Wha- how did you know this was where I lived? How did you know it was temporary?"

Zim seemed not to have thought that far. He froze. Misato decided to butt in.

"Hello, uh, Zim was it?" she forced a smile and leaned down (short kid, for his age). She'd heard of a bizarre greenish hued child with no history files suddenly butting his way into the school system, so she didn't real away in terror. "I'm ah… Misato Katsuragi, Shinji's legal guardian for the time being. You a friend of his from school?"

Before Ikari could interject, Zim said, grinning in a soberingly sinister way "Yes, a very good friend. May I enter?"

_NERV medical bay, 5:34 PM:_

"OW!"

Dib sat bolt upright. Any sensory information had been cut short for what felt like four seconds. He'd had no time to express his pain as anything other than crude shrieking, and now that he was conscious again, the boy could sum it up in one simple, simple word.

Logic took over. He was disoriented- both the slimy synthetic hell-fluid that he had had to breathe and shuddering impact were gone, replaced by warm sheets and a small, dark room. Dib would normally have taken up active exploration of his surroundings, but seeing as his head felt like an ultra dense neutron star, the son of Membrane remained sedentary. Eyes proceeded to adjust, and, after what felt like another lapse into sleep, a door opened.

"Ah! I'd had a feeling you may be awake. I've come to inform you of your current condition," Dr. Akagi said. It was a miracle how Dib picked up on her stoicism in the dim light. Must have been her voice. "You must be very confused. Rest assured, all is well. You're in a med-bay, neither you nor your sister suffer any permanent injury. The angel is dead. Gaz quite astonishly dealt with it, given her level of training."

Dib grunted his aknowledgement. His lips were like lead blubber

"I don't want you to feel ashamed," said Ritsuko, her voice contradicting that statement, "But running disconnecting the umbilical cable like that was a risky, and costly move. You might have been afraid, but I can assure you that your accident was far more likely to cause fatality than dealing with the angel." Her tone instructed Dib that that was not a solid fact. He didn't have time to care though- because now the boy had been reminded of why he had run off.

"N.. n..ot…Scared," he managed.

"Oh?" said Akagi.

"Aaa..Alien," croaked Dib.

The Doctor sighed. "I can't expect to have a coherent conversation at this stage in your recovery. Just one more thing." She got up and spoke to the Pilot from his doorway: "Your father will have to work round the clock here for the next few months. You will be staying with Shinji and Misato. Your sister will be-"

But Dib blacked out at that part.


	3. A Transfer, or NanoShinji

_Classroom, 7:34 AM:_

Although Miss Bitters had known Dib Maltenson's father was working in this hellhole of a city, she managed a single eyebrow raise when she was handed the info that his son would be entering her new class. This was too much of a coincidence, and he seemed to think the same- for all of five seconds.

That boy needed to work on his attention span.

He gaped, squeaking a little, at Zim. "What?" The little green child said, somewhat nonchalantly.

Dib didn't stop with the squeaking. It only god louder, for God's sake.

"DIB! Will you kindly stop this discrimination against horrible freaks," Bitters spat, "I can't stand it when students can't abide by humanity's crude ethical system."

The child of Membrane lowered his arm like a descending crane. He walked jerkily to an empty seat (there were no shortages of those- what was the deal with this vacant city?) and sat down. His jaw tensed as he studied Zim, whose face had crossed the threshold into "vaguely unsettled".

Bitters drummed her yellowing fingers on the fake wood of her desk. Utterly incorrigible were the antics of these teenage angst-magnets. She decreed a break in the monotony with, "Well, if I and Dib are no longer in a position of reunion, we may began today's demoralizing lecture. Today we will explore one of the greatest philosophical minds of our time, The Joker-"

"Is this some kind of bad prank?" Dib interrupted. Bitters' train of thought hit a penny on the rails. The teacher would melt that penny down with her own gaze if she had to.

"What are you explicitly referring to, Mr. Maltenson?" she began, with all the warmth of liquid nitrogen.

Dib 's eyes darted frantically between classmates, as if sure one of them would crack up. "That kid's- He's and _Alien_," he said. You could hear the capital A.

"I see…" Bitters growled. She had always deemed this boy as idiotic as the others, even if he was outcast, but now… well, he was smarter than he let on. Not that she could let her students know that. That would complicate things.

"For those of you that have been to thick to gather," she announced, shocking a few kids several inched off their seats, "Dib is a former student of mine, back in the United States. He is not to be trusted in any of his paranoid claims, as he is a highly delusional boy. Have I made myself clear?" Everyone but Dib and Zim nodded fearfully. The Irken merely bobbed his head as he studied Maltenson in a distracted fashion.

"What? No, I'm telling the truth. I fought a giant one last night, then chased this one all over the city!"

"Fought a giant- were you one of the pilots last night?" The infuriating Aida boy piped up. Suzahara rolled his eyes.

"Well, not to brag, but- yeah," Dib obviously bragged. Some students whispered among themselves, others stared, still others looked almost pleadingly at Bitters, as if unsure what to do.

"I- I can account for- well, what he fought- he definitely made a case for it being- you know… and alien," Ikari stuttered, surprisingly. He himself even looked astounded at his own nerve.

"Shinji, good friendhuman," Zim butted in, "The origin of- whatever was going yesterday may be debatable, but you are not implying that _I_ am from a different planet with this, are you?" He gave a fake-sounding laugh, nervousness, honest to god _fear_ on his face. This pathetic little Irken was doing a terrible job at whatever mission that had been jabbed his way. He was one of the shortest Bitters had seen, obviously some kind of defective that had been thrown this backwater planet as a pity-bone. Didn't seem like what a Tallest would do. She'd have to look into the matter.

"Well, no, of course not, Zim," Shinji stuttered snapping Bitters out of her musings as he tried to avoid his "friend's" gaze.

"Exactly. Zim is our class representative, Dib, and I will not have you spreading nasty rumors. I can assure you he his merely a genetic anomaly, and not of extraterrestrial origin," Bitters lied.

Maltenson looked ready to launch into a four-hour debate, but past experiences with his teacher convinced him otherwise. "Yes ma'am," he resigned.

"Good. Now, we will commence clips from the _Dark Knight_. I will assign a quiz based off the philosophical content. You will pay attention or fail miserably," Miss Bitters announced. Gullible fools. She wondered how long it would take for them to work up the boldness to say that she hadn't added any Japanese subtitles. New classes were always fun.

_Schoolyard 12:27 AM:_

"_Ooohfff,"_

Shinji was startled from his mediocre lunch be the sound of fourteen-year old body coming in contact with fourteen-year-old fist, then hitting the cold, cold ground. Toji Suzahara stamped past the Third Child, who was sitting with Zim at a picnic table. Shinji turned to face his acquaintance.

"What do you suppose went on there?" he asked.

Zim snorted. "Who cares? What savage squabbles these juvenile apes get into is none of my business. I am, of course, better than-" he paused. "What I mean to say is, Ikari-minion, WE are better." His mouth grinned. The rest of his face kept its' distance.

"Right," Shinji sighed. "I'm going to see what happened anyway." He got up leaving Zim to glance around, cagily. In the week Shinji had known him, the green boy had not once brought any kind of food with him to school. Shinji wondered if it was some type of medical condition, in tandem with his skin-thing. Maybe he took in his nutrition in an embarrassing, private way?

Such thoughts were expelled by the sight of Dib, lying, bruised on one cheek, in a spread eagle position in the grass. There was no one else around- Toji had obviously cornered this poor boy

"W-what happened?" Shinji dared ask.

"I think I killed Suzahara's sister," Dib said, in monotone.

Shinji's gut turned over in fear, revulsion, sympathy for both parties, and deep, deep shame "Y-you mean…" he looked around, "In the Eva?"

"No need to whisper. You told everyone about me piloting, before I came into class, didn't you?" Crap, he had found out.

Ikari's eyes welled up. "I am so, so sorry. About telling… and about… well, I'm sure it must have been an accident… Look, do you want to sit with me and Zim?"

Dib turned his head. "The alien freak? No f**ing thanks."

Shinji walked back to his table. Zim was still there, and- a girl he didn't recognize.

"'Bout time, Ikari," Zim said, glaring upwards. "Tell this creepy no one to leave our table in peace!"

Shinji was too tired to put up with this. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"I have been assigned to monitor Zim," the girl said, not facing him. She had a crop of neck-length blue hair and a slight frame, with near-white arms.

"By whom?"

"Your father."

Ikari tensed. "You- you're the first child, right?"

"Affirmative."

_Misato's Apartment, retracted into the Geofront, 11:43 AM:_

Shinji tried to calm his melting pot of conflicting emotions with the soothing SDAT in his palm, on this calm Saturday that he had all to himself. Above, Shamshel did not get the chance to cause unmitigated havoc, as Gaz bitch-slapped him into submission and Misato and Co. watched on in astonishment from NERV HQ. Shinji could not know this, however.

Florescent lights hummed, piles of unsavory garbage were silent and still, Penpen waggled erratically outside his door. Shinji had turned on his music partly to muffle out the strange behavior of Misato's Penguin companion; He hoped the bird wasn't sick. He couldn't stand disappointing his legal guardian, not after so many missteps in recent days.

He didn't here Penpen softly enter, so it was unsurprising that he screamed bloody murder when the hot-water penguin yanked the headphones out of his ears.

Ikari was silenced, however, by Penpen exclamation of, "Suhrtrissed to shee neee, Shinji?"

Silence proceeded to ensue in an orderly manner.

Shinji broke it. By screaming. Much louder.

"KAI-HET, DOY. DU YOU YANT TEH YAKE DE HO NEDERHOOD?" The penguin shouted as loud as a flightless bird could.

"W-what are you," Ikari whimpered through a closing throat.

"I an- hankh on." Penpen jumped onto Shinji's lap, and the poor boy fainted straight away.

"Ah, good," Zim said aloud from an Irken craft deep in the confines of Penpens' brain, "This will make the transfer much easier. This creature's beak is terrible for Japanese."

_Same location, 12:24 PM:_

Shinji gulped down sweet, sweet water, coughing up a bit of phlegm into the sink immediately after. The boy had had the worst case of dehydration after he had woken up from that terrible dream- it was all he could do not to pass out again.

Gasping for air, Ikari poured himself another glass, and sat down onto the lounge couch, flipping on the TV. It was then he noticed something very like vomit staining the other sofa cushion. Huh- he hadn't dreamt Penpen's sickness after all. Maybe he'd caught some of whatever the penguin had. He still couldn't shake that surreal vision of that creature trying to-

"Hello, Shinji."

The boy jumped. The image on the screen had changed, through no accord of his own. Something very like Zim in dress, figure, and skin color looked back at him. Two black, thick antennae had replaced any hair, and the green little boy's eyes were solid magenta. He was sitting in a deep maroon cockpit of some kind, and grinning like he'd won the evil lottery.

"You're probably wondering how I know where you live," Zim said, after a minute of tense silence. There was no mistaking his distinctive voice- Shinji couldn't have mistaken him for anyone else.

"Um- no…you've been over here once, and-"

"SILENCE," Zim screamed. "I am currently in a microscopic vessel, shrunken with masterful technology, and flowing throughout your inefficient, hemoglobin based circulatory system."

"What?"

"Oh, you are horrid at playing dumb, boy," Zim growled, still smiling, "But I have saw through your treachery. Consorting with that Dib boy, who overtly saw through my disguise, having your cold, unfeeling robot arm sic that creepy girl after me. I put my trust in you, and-"

"Robot arm?"

"Parent, I meant parent. I get those two confused."

Now, Shinji may have been timid to a fault, and fairly skeptic, but he was not slow. "This- this is real. You're from… space? You're an- an alien?"

Zim's eyes narrowed. "I told you not to play dumb. Don't make me liquefy your lymph nodes. That's right, I've been studying human anatomy, and let me tell you, _Homo sapiens_ are _FREAKS_ on the inside."

"Do you have something to do with the angels?" Ikari asked. He felt stupid asking.

"That is none of your concern, filthbeast. Soon I will reach your belly, where I will stimulate your arm control nerve, leading to-"

"But- humans don't have arm control nerves in their stomachs," Shinji interjected, confusedly, "That's completely counter-intuitive."

"SILENCE! I CONTROL YOUR ARMS!" Zim shouted back from the screen.

"Oh, god, oh god, you're inside me?" Ikari said, the full realization inching in on him. His fragile mind couldn't let it come in one go, he would pass out again. Speaking of passing out. "Wait… that thing with Penpen. That wasn't a dream?"

The honest-to-god Alien smirked. "Yes, child. It took me a while to control that creature's nervous system as practice. Suffice to say, it worked, and I inserted myself in your throat through the beak. It was quite the endeavor, and I-"

Shinji didn't hear the rest. As his lunch joined Penpen's on the couch.

"Eww, careful with that, its' bumpy in here," Zim snarled, "And you're _disgusting _enough without all that gross rigmarole." He rubbed his temples, "But you will strangle yourself soon enough."

For one glorious moment, as he regained his breath and wiped his mouth, Shinji's rational mind coincided perfectly with his self-preservation instinct. "But if you- *_cough_*- kill me, wouldn't that leave a trail? I mean, wouldn't it be better just to, I don't know, go to my brain and delete my memories?"

Zim frowned.

"Can you do that?" Ikari half enquired, half pleaded.

"Alright, sludgebelly, I'll leave you alive. Alive as a MOLDERING VEGETABLE."

"Uh oh."

He reached the limit again. Wretching, Ikari found that the contents of his stomach stained red. He didn't hear Zim's screams, or the wash of static, as blackness was pulled over his head like a stuffy blanket.

_Zim's Base, 6:34 PM:_

"Unbelievable. How could I have known that he could eject me along with his blood like that? That mass-altering tech. from Dwak-9 was a one-time demo. What would have happened if I had tested it a few more times beforehand, huh?"

"I don't know, you would have been crushed underfoot? Lord-And-Father knows we all would have benefited," a cool voice spoke up.

Zim stopped agitatedly tapping the floor of his maroon lab and turned, glaring at a cylindrical tank of liquid, illuminated by fluorescent blue light. The sound came from a speaker at its' base (the origin of the voice), from which wires lead to a cracked, orange orb, easily the size of a small car, that floated in the liquid. Other wires embedded in the orb stretched to a camera, a microphone, and parts unseen.

"Quiet, Satchel, or I'll drain the whole damn tank," Zim said, blinking against the violently cyan light.

"You can't threaten a prisoner who knows very much that they are needed," the speaker, or shall we say, The Orb, said, "And my name is Edaail. Or close to it, given your…" he paused, patronizingly, "_inefficient _method of translation."

The Irken growled, his think lips pulling back, and showing a great multitude of comb like ridge-teeth. "The humans call you Satchel. As much as the apes annoy me, I would never call a Nehindei by what they call themselves. Computer! Initiate interrogation method, 34-f!"

"Yes, sir," a deeper voice piped up from the bowels of the lab. He addressed the prisoner; "We have your mother in the other room. We are looking to do unspeakable things to her." Whatever the computer was trying to sound like, it didn't come out as sincere.

"I don't have a mom," Edaail said flatly.

"You didn't _think_ you had one," said the computer.

"SILENCE. ENOUGH FRIVOLITYYYYYY! I said 34-_f_, you cobbled-together excuse for an artificial intelligence!" The Invader roared.

The computer gave a sound very like a sigh. A second later Edaail's screams threatened to burst Zim's antennae, as the blue tank crackled with painful-looking light.

"When almost 3 minutes had passed, Zim said, dangerously quiet, "No one is coming to get you, Satchel. Your AT field is weak and easy to mask. You're not going anywhere, seeing as a mere Core lacks the vital methods for locomotion, and unlike the ambulatory life on this rock, I don't need to sleep. And neither does my computer."

Edaail said nothing.

"If you behave, I will allow conversations with him. I understand you are the social type."

"You know nothing of my kind," The Nehindei said, so very weakly.

The Irken raised an eyebrow. "34-f again, if you please, computer," he said, very soft.

He ignored the screams as he left the lab. He'd have to remember to soundproof that room.


	4. Parentteacher's night dillema

_NERV HQ, 4:15 PM:_

"One more thing, Ikari," a holographic Monolith boomed as it towered over the NERV commander.

_Jesus, _Gendo thought from his slouching vantage, _more like five or six more things. Can't theses people just be honest for once? Lies by ommission nonwithstanding_, he added mentally.

"Ikari, can you hear us?" Keel Lorenz' aged voice echoed. Gendo nodded slightly, then, remembering he was as anonymous as the rest, shouted up, "Loud and clear, director."

"Good. This Satou boy, first name 'Zim'. Neither he, nor his family, have any permissable records. We ordinarily would have disposed of him, but- well, you are aware of the abnormalites. What have you done to allieviate concern?"

Gendo remained as static as a metal sculpture. If anyone could see him now, they would think his words projected into their head, for his hands totally covered his mouth, and his face betrayed no expression.

"We have been tailing the boy. As far as we can tell, he lives somewhere in the forested region five miles north of here, in the National Park."

"As far as you can tell?"

"I've told you before, he keeps dissapearing into wilderness, every night we've tracked him. This, coupled with the enormous blank spot that our sensors come across in that area, has led to understandible suspicion," said Gendo.

"We are well aware of that, Ikari," said another monolith, his voice icy, "What the Director asked is if you have any _new _developments to report."

"In that case, no sir," said the NERV commander, to exasperated sighs.

"So be it," Lorenz replied. "See of you can get someone to meet with the boy's legal guardians. If he doesn't have any, as you suspect- well it will be plantatively obvious, now won't it?"

"Yes, sir," said Gendo.

The holographic monoliths dissapeared. Gendo sat quietly at his desk, Membrane standing by.

"I run great risk by letting you listen in," the commander said. "I think one of then heard you cough."

"I didn't cough once," Membrane said, calmly.

"A likely story. What would you deem the best course of action?"

"Call an emergency parent-teacher night for the school. I will inspect the boy and his guardians in that setting. Though," Membrane added, as he moved towards the door, "I do think you should be worried more about my son's old teacher."

_Zim's base, 9:34 PM: _

"Sachiel, I have an assignment for you," Zim coldly announced as he entered the Nehindaei's holding pin.

Edaail scoffed. "A new name, is it?"

Zim bristled. "It appears I misheard it, the first time," he admitted.

"Is my brother dead?" Edaail ignored him.

"Shamshel?" Zim questioned. "I couldn't recover any remains. That Dibsister did a number on it."

The Nehindei said nothing.

Zim blinked, squinting at the bright light of his prisoner's tank. "Your mission, then," he said after a pause,"Is to act as a surrogatte 'parent' I hear these humans blabbing on about." He began pasing the circular room. "You will control a robotic interface, through subspace transmissions, from your current position."

"Why not get your minions to do this dirty work?" Edaail said, flatly.

"GIR was disigned solely for information retrieval. And is, you know, stupid and dumb. Computor is too busy masking our location for this task," Zim explained. "I don't know when we'll find an opening to send the tallest a greeting, with this NERV monitering everything like a paranoid Suluv of Sentriani V," the Irken sighed, wearily.

Edaail still said nothing.

"You will by shown several clips of human parental behaviour. If there are any slip-ups, escape attempts, or sabotage at the gathering, you know what will happen," the Invader said. "Or, who knows. You may end up like Shamshel."

"His name is Phun, youAAAAAAAAAAUGH."

"Save yourself the trouble, vermin."

_Tokyo-3 middle school, cafeteria 5:43 PM:_

"This is my Paternal Unit, uh... Yamato," Zim beamed up at miss Bitters.

"Fantastic," The old wrinkled bat replied, dryly. "May we speak in private conference?

The stiff robot under Sachiels' control blinked, then adjusted its ocular sensors. Painfully obvious. Zim wished he had thought to subdue the design more. Ah well, it had been on short notice, and he was ZIM, after all.

Bitters only stared, one finger tapping a morose rythym on her cup of artificial punch.

"The office is this way," she said, finally gesturing to the side.

"Good good," Sachiel said, absently.

Zim had half a mind to shock the bastard Nehindei when he noticed Shinji, resembling something shifty and nervous as a poultry-fox. He stood next to Gaz, who looked like she was trying hard to ignore the conversation between a floating screen with her fathers' face on it and a male teacher.

Zim left his prisoner's talk with the instructor in favor of an audience with the Ikari brat.

"Shinji, good friendhuman," Zim grin-grimaced, "You have been evacive today. Why is that, I wonder?"

Shinji jumped what seemed to be about 7 inches off the ground. The invader chuckled mentally. How he loved the manipulation of underlings. "Oh my Z-zim!" Shinji wavered, "How-"

"Cut the crap, you mad ape child," Zim leered.

"So it wasn't a dream?" Shinji dropped his cup.

"You'll wish it was."

"No, you will," said Ikari, after a second of noislessness. He looked somewhat regretful at his choice of words.

"Heh?" Zim questioned, taken-aback.

"I'm going pilot that EVA. NERV wil need all the help it can get dealing with the likes of you."

_The room of Ms. Bitters, 5:56 PM:_

"I must say, I never quite thought that the Irken would be clever enough to come up with an agreement like the one he has with you."

Edaail tore his attention from the window. "He has much more of a capacity for some things than we give him credit for, underneath all that boorish nonsense."

"Yes," Bitters said scratching her half-formed she-mustache. "I do believe that once he can contact his superiors, your endevour will get a whole lot more complicated."

"It will be less complicated for you if you free me."

"No."

Edaail twitched his robotic interface like a child depraved of its sole want. Back in the lab, his core glowed in agitation. It didn't notice GIR laughing, or licking the tank.

After a minute (two? Four?) of akwardly sealed lips, the Nehindei's mechanical body said, "I never expected to find a member of the First Ancestral Race here, much less a creator of the Usurper."

"Yes, well, one must keep an eye on their offspring," Bitters took off her glasses, whiping them on her shadowy, para-fluid coat. A true human's hair would have stood on end if they had seen the teacher's empty eye-sockets. "Been here- around fifteen thousand years, give or take. I came to visit my dear daughter, and, well, she was sleeping. Not wanting to disturb, or make the effort of leaving, I thought that this planet was adequate for a vacation spot anyway. Recently Lilith woke up. She only contacted me a month ago. We've been talking in person some nights. The security personell in NERV are a joke."

"Why do you call her by the human-language name?"

"Lillith? It's easier on the tongue." When Edaail snorted, the F.A.R. being sighed. "I know, I'm going native."

"What will it take for you to bring me to her?"

Bitters returned the glasses to the stoic bridge of her nose. "Nothing. That is to say, everything. I created Lilith, and directed her to this planet. I don't know how a Black Moon Nehindei, your Father, that Adam fellow, came here, but I can be sure it was a mistake. Dispite my visage, I am a caring lady."

Edaail snorted. Bitters glared. The Nehindei shut his stiff, metal jaw.

"I will not allow you to destroy my daughter. She has already populated this planet with the children of the White Moon. Your kind will-"

"You don't understand," Edaail said. He was really starting to panic now. This F.A.R. being was proving rather hard to negotiate with. "We will all die if we cannot spread Father's seed," he added.

Bitters was completely impassive. "And entire planet full of life, for sixteen individuals?"

"We don't have to destroy White Moon's descendents," the Nehindei half-truthed.

"I don't care. I just can't have you killing my little girl. Kill the Lillim, for all I care. They can't garner any sympathy."

"Just don't harm Her."

"Correct."

Edaail inexpertley gulped in his poorly-constructed throat. "It won't be easy. My brothers, my Father, will-"

"Convince them, or watch them die."

The Nehindei stood up. Never taking his artificial eyes off the monster of a woman, he backed out of the door.

_Membrane's Lab, 6:05:_

Membrane Maltenson kept his goggled vision on a live feed of the Conference. As Zim and his guardian exited, he finished his recording of the vision. Reaching for a cell phone, the proffessor dialed his colleague.

"Gendo? The boy's guardian is a construct. Yes, details later. We will be sure to abduct him."


	5. Changing Directions

_A forest, 5:43 PM:_

If you look hard in the woods around Tokyo-3, Misato Katsuragi always says, you might very well find a studio Ghibli watermark. The place's tear-to-eye-bringing scenery has been sited numerous times in support of intelligent design. Not that Zim had anything resembling earth standards of beauty in his prickly and unstable mind. Where an exemplary human would have sat and observed quietly for several hours, the second-shortest invader fought to keep his snacks down. He tried averting his eyes, but there was nowhere to avert them to. He couldn't very well close them, as he had learned through a bumpy trial and error process that had left a bit of Irken nose blood on several trunks. Zim shuddered as he passed one of them. Imbecilic moss.

Earlier, when confronted with the stiflingly thick air, the skin-colored flora, and the so-stupid-they-were-dumb indigenous population, the young invader had assumed the tallest were building up his strength by placing him in such hostile and uncomfortable conditions, and he had tried to enjoy it. Zim's short attention span murdered what was left of that notion in a back alley after the first week, and he was now spitting curses at any tree that would listen. It was about to get worse, as it always does. Things rarely stay the same, in stories like these.

While formal diagnoses of mental state or intelligence are not an Irken's forte ("Learning disability? You're defective. Problem with social cues? Defective. Looked at me funny? Defective. Knew it all along,") we can be reasonably certain that Zim wasn't stupid. Relatively, he was very, very deranged, but he wasn't so delusional as to suspect nothing. Although the Irken did live in a state of continual paranoia that ebbed and flowed like the tides of a toxic ocean, now was one of the times that suspicion coincided with reality. Someone was watching him, as he thought, and someone was far overestimating his abilities, or else they would have grabbed him the minute he was alone.

The person in question was at present in a state of panic over the spider legs Zim employed for locomotion from his PAK. Through apparent coincidence, this person had just the right equipment. A lot of time was wasted crouching around and sweating because this person, who's name was Classified (really, that's his code name. Long story), wasn't informed of this.

He figured it out for himself though. Overcoming his nerves, Classified made shorter work than he expected on Zim with a batch of delicious neurotoxins. This would not do. He'd really hoped the little bugger would escape, then he wouldn't have to bring it back to base. Debating with himself behind a shrub while ants climbed into exciting bodily crevices, Classified arrived at the conclusion that getting fired would be worse than handling the demon child.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't, the operative thought to himself. He leaned down.

Fucking pretty out here, though.

_Unspecified location, 3:27 AM:_

"Name?"

"I KNOW YOUR PLAN. YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME, BUT IT WON'T WORK. I HAVE ALL THE RIGHT FRIENDS IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES, AND MOST OF THEM ARE LOOKING FOR THE EXCUSE TO BASH PINK MONKEY FACE IN!"

Zim gulped dusty air in, almost swooning as his scaly cheeks inflated. He had just noticed the removal of his disguise, which gave him free reign with insults. There was one light source in the room, a lamp, one that impressively forced the light to cover only Zim's chair, whether the illumination wanted it or not. Zim, who would have surveyed the situation immediately if he had been a proper invader, only remembered to do so now. He was tied to a chair. Okay, that was all his senses could ascertain. No big deal. He could just saw through this with the-

… Missing PAK.

Why wasn't-?

Oh, _there_ was his lifeclock, like an unwanted wake-up call. They must have just removed the PAK. All right, ten minutes 'til doom. Remaining calm was not an option.

After a thirty-second interval of hysterics, Gendo interrupted, making sure not to show his face (although Zim really wouldn't recognize him). "I asked for your name," he said, as calm as an approaching angel.

"-SPREAD YOUR REMAINS INTO SO MANY BUCKETS THAT ALL OF ALTERNIA WOULD BLUSH- what?" the Invader interrupted himself. Even he was not immune to the carefully weaponized voice of one NERV commander.

"Your name, I need your name." Ikari was, granted, winging it, but he got the job done. Zim gulped, then tried to pass it off as a growl. The result was hilarious, and couldn't have been replicated by Richard Horvitz if he tried.

"My name is Zim."

"It's your real name?"

"Yes."

A pause. "We'll come back to that later," Gendo said.

Zim sneered. "Do you doubt me, human?"

Another pause.

"You call me 'human'. Is that meant to imply you are not?"

"Wow, you're brains are almost as empty as a Vortian's after a good probing."

More pausing. Edward Cullen would have a fit. Then some scribbling, a dry cough, and a, "What is a Vortian?"

"A sentient species native to planet Vort. They have funny horns," The Irken intoned. He froze. "Listen, stinkcreature, I hate you and you apparently hate me. There's no changing that. But I am about to die, due to the idiotic removal of my PAK. So… unless you want to deprive the universe of my genius, if I were you, I'd-"

"What is a PAK?"

Zim leered exaggeratedly in annoyance. "It is my all-purpose utility structure. Backs up my personality, memories, and identity, acts as many extra appendages, and encodes my role in the glorious empire of IRK," He recited, as per protocol.

Pauses, pauses, pauses. Big enough to shove a horse in 'em.

"And you will die without it."

"Correct."

"But it has your identity backed up, as it were."

"You are correct, sir." The Invader mocked.

"When was the most recent back up?"

"It does an emergency one when it senses it's about to be removed- look I really don't see-"

"Are you truly that thick?"

Zim froze. "What do you mean, hippo… potamus? Campus? C'mon help me out. I'm loosing my grip with the, uh… head… thing. The thing in my head."'

Gendo stood up, forcing the scrape of his chair to slice right through the dark. "You mean, 'hipocrate', and 'brain,' respectively, I think. How long to you have to live, by the way?"

Zim squinted at his lifeclock. "9 minutes, two seconds."

"Should be enough time to prove you aren't bluffing. Good evening."

_NERV Commander's office_

Zim was not bluffing. He was, in fact, dead by the time Gendo entered his room. Lucky that they had unearthed such alien coding on the PAK machine. He had it sent to Membrane- if that man's supercharged brain couldn't decipher it, no human could.

A half an hour of nervous waiting followed, then about thirty seconds of expertly concealed surprise, which eventually receded into icy analysis of Membrane's research. The professor sputtered excitedly over the intercom- "This has profound implications for humanity! If only I could let the children know, but that of course would jeopardize everything we've built up…" yadda yadda yadda yadda. "…You don't think I've been overdoing it with the fake skepticism, do you, old chum?"

If Ikari's brain had a face, it would have snorted. Only of you counted public accusations of insanity towards your own son as "Overdone". Good grief, the man actually did more damage by _trying_ to connect with his estranged son, opposed to the wise choice of letting sleeping dogs lie, as in Gendo's case.

"And even better," the professor continued, not stopping for breath if it would save his life (which it should, under normal circumstance), "The dormant AI in there is fully compatible with EVA unit 005. I believe we've found a power source for the Sixth Child!"

Gendo froze. This was something. Kihl Lorenz had been dropping hints about how they'd better get SEELE's pretty little secret weapon in the cockpit soon, the way instrumentality seemed to be darting in the corners of everyone's eye. "Shall I call him?" The NERV commander expected, and wanted, a no, but was met with a "Sure, sure!" and decided to make the most of it.

He got up slowly, entered the greenroom (Fuyutsuki would only be a hamper in a private call like this), and pressed a certain sequence of buttons that recognized his DNA superbly. An image flashed in the ensuing blackness. It wasn't Lorenz. Ikari gave a little twitch to his left eyebrow that set said image in a bad mood for the rest of the day. It was a reedy young female. Her eyes were made only the more buggish by copious makeup, and her hair was the oddest iridescent indigo. Kids these days, Ikari thought, with their gene-altering fashion sense. Lorenz did ensure her a pretty penny, he heard, so long as she remained his pseudo-prisoner. He still was foggy on the details, though.

"Ahem," She cleared her throat spasmodically, "Mr. Lorenz has allowed me speak to you sir, since I requested." Her voice was ragged, yet polite, and had a certain cadence about it, suggesting that she was always reminding herself that screaming wouldn't solve anything.

"For you, Mr. Ikari," Her hologram continued," I have composed a poem."

He nodded. Dear god, was she blushing? She was around Rei's age. And hadn't Soryu demonstrated her affiliation with Kaji-

He was cut short by her recital.

"Ahem:

_For all my life I've been looking for someone like you,_

_Someone with a head like yours, and a torso, too,_

_Birds sing, and YOU'RE GONNA PAY."_

_Zim's base, 7:57 Am:_

Edaail, needless to say, was sick of dark purple. After wishing for thousandth time that the tank's optical sensor was in greyscale. (And the millionth time that he had that fucking body back, and the billionth time for his original form,) he noticed what the computer had been mulling over for the night.

"Is Zim not here?" the Nehindei sent into the data mainframe.

The computer gave a bewildered virtual start. "Yes, he's not" he said, trying to sound apathetic, but coming off as strained and nonplussed.

"Well, why do you think that is? Out with it, good man!" The Angel Occasionally Known as Sachiel urged.

"Well, uh... y'see, he's… I have no direct information on-"

"No, you don't, you never do," Edaail sighed, trying to lead back in the tank, and finding his lack of motor skills apparent. "Where's that little squeaky thing that's always annoying everyone and following him around?"

"Minimoose?"

"…No. Gir, I think. Who or what is minimoose?"

A beat of silence.

"I have no Idea."

"Okay…" Edaail wasn't dealing with a drooling idiot, or a delusional psychopath, but the hardware did come off as a little slow, pardon the pun. Still, the Nehindei had room to work with, if he could be patient. "Well, where _is _GIR?"

"Oh… out in Tokyo-3, testing that new guidance program," the computer sighed, happy to get into a comfortable train of thought. Or just to speak in general.

"And by that you mean he's lost, rambling around the city?"

The computer's voice had a darkly humorous edge. "I believe so,

"So you only do you not know exactly where Gir, is, you don't know exactly where Zim is. Must be a party over here!"

The AI took a sharp intake of cyber-breath. "I uh… I'm actually programmed for loyalty. Kind of worried here, to be honest, but I can't do a sweep for their energy signature. Too busy masking the locale."

Bingo, the perfect opportunity, thought Edaail. "I_ could _look for them in that artificial human…"

"Whoa, whoa, absolutely not," The computer intoned, sounding very in over his head. He wasn't used to mouthy prisoners.

"Then maybe _you_ could do a manual search? I'm sure something like that tin can is compatible with your superior programming." Flattery wouldn't normally work, but like Edaail had noticed, it was a slow entity he was dealing with.

"That's uh, that's not really how programming works-"

"But you could give it a shot, yes?"

Silence. For a sobering moment, Edaail wondered if this might not work…

"Alright, if you promised maintain the masking software, then-"

"Sure, sure!" He was ecstatic, yet strained. Any minute now something could go wrong. The fallen angel needed to act fast. "If Zim would zap me black and green afterwards, do you think I'd risk it?"

"Ah… Okay… I guess not…"

"Good luck on your search." That was a little cocky. But it worked all the same. The computer's shoddily programmed mind was confused, yet easily influenced. He failed to realize yielding Edaail full control of the base had- well, yielded full control of the base to Edaail. And now or never was his time to contact a friend.

_A transcript_:

_It is I._

YOU LIVE?

_Yes._

WHERE ARE YOU?

_Here._

AH, YES, I SEE.

_It is good to speak to brethren again. So long it feels that I have been trapped._

I WILL DO MY BEST TO FREE YOU. AND WE WILL DESTROY THIS MOCKERY TOGETHER.

_Yes, about that…_

_Another transcript, some time in the future: _

VORT: Greetings, almighty tallest. May your heads pierce the heavens, and-

THE MASSIVE: Yeah, uh huh. Listen, Warden Lard, congrats on the speedy conquer by the way, but we just got some rather, uh- disquieting information from one planet "earth".

VORT: I heard. The defective Zim is alive, and harboring a nehindei ally in his base, correct?

_Beat_

THE MASSIVE: How in the hell-?

VORT: News travels fast in these circles, sir. Believe me, I apprehended the rumormongers. But now you say this is true, and I fear for the empire.

THE MASSIVE: Exactly, us to. So we'd thought we'd take the discreet approach, and just, you know…

VORT: Give some of our prisoners surprise parole? Secret surprise parole?

THE MASSIVE: Can it be done? _(beat, then laughter) _Nah, just joshing' ya. Of course it can be done. You do it or we kill you.

VORT: _(nervous laughter)_ Y-yes, sir, yes.

THE MASSIVE: Strictest confidence, right warden?

VORT: Of course, sir.

THE MASSIVE: Good man. Now, to begin, I think we'll need a conference with prisoner D-16.

_(beat)_

VORT: D-16 sir? You mean-

THE MASSIVE: I know full well whom I mean.

VORT: Yes sir._ (scrambling, sound of keys tapping. Ten-minute pause)._

VORT: _Red, you old bastard, how are you?_

THE MASSIVE: Fine, Megatron. Let's talk business.


	6. Takris

_NERV HQ, 6:41 PM:_

Shinji's first impulse after peeling the slick plugsuit off his skin was to hurl. The LCL was like another bodily fluid, a fifth humor he didn't particularly think he needed, and had to be leached out. The training was a nauseating process regardless. Disorienting, and oddly profound, like being in zero gravity, or at least how the Ikari boy imagined it.

Taking deep, nasal breaths, Shinji plotted down the corridor. He passed Dib, who whistled in a sort of an artificially carefree way, hands in his pockets. He looked rather drier than Shinji. Must have had experience getting in and out. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing in the sync-test. The Ikari boy gave himself another mental chastisement for the social disaster that was his attempted friendship with Dib.

The Third and Fourth children stopped at the same time, avoiding eye contact. Dib's bespectacled eyes flashed all around the sterilized white corridor. He hissed, "You know the truth about our little green friend?"

Shinji nodded softly, and swallowed hard.

"I thought so. Your decision to pilot and general jumpiness tipped me off. I'm sorry if you had to see anything traumatic." He sounded rather earnest. "We can't talk here, too many security cams,"- there weren't, Dib just liked to think so -"So, Ritsuko's apartment, my room, tonight. Misato will give you directions. Welcome to the Swollen Eyeball network, kid."

_Vort, Block-D, Sixteen Irken Hours_:

The letter "D," (encompassing most "T" and "D" sounds in the English language,) was the last letter of the Irken alphabet. Consequently, the D-block housed Vort's most volatile prisoners and detainees. Some of the standard-security inmates were allowed to roam in the exercise area when they had exhibited good behavior- socializing, occasionally fighting, and, if the latter happened, being subjected to extreme penalty.

D-16, commonly referred to as "Megatron," "Lord Megatron," and "Spike (only by equals)," was the one of the earliest lifers transferred to Vort, when it had just been converted into a branch of the Imperial Maximum Security Penitentiary, almost a year ago. He was currently picking at a bad rustrash on his clawed hand's armor plaiting, alone in demoralizing exercise area. Fifty feet tall, sharply cybernetic, and sporting a mind that had commissioned around 16-trillion deaths, Megatron was a hot contender for solitary confinement; but his surprisingly polite disposition earned him mobility privileges.

He was interrupted from computed musings by the slick voice of the being that had just joined him. "That alt-mode still work?"

Megatron showed Tallest Red every one of his lizardlike teeth as he crouched to get a better look at the Irken. "Like clockwork."

"Perfect." Red met the prisoner halfway, commanding his hoverbelt up to the metal titan's eye level. "I've ordered absolute privacy, not that I didn't need to argue for it. But I can trust you, I'm sure. Mostly because they'll drop you into the furnace is they find my body," he chuckled.

Megatron let out a distressingly dry burst of cackling. "Yes, I'm sure," He beamed.

"So, yeah. I had the area cleared and shut off, but only for 7 minutes. We have to talk quick," Red's smile was a bit more thin than before. "The rumors about surviving Nehindei? All true. We thought we destroyed their current residence, but a defective service drone who thinks he's an invader- Zim, he's called -has been detected sending out hyperspace signals from the planet. And I think he has one of _them_ in his base. Purple and I don't know if he's gone traitor or not, and frankly, we don't care; and if word gets out... well, credibility needs to be maintained. Obviously, we're not going to be cleansing the planet through official means."

Megatron's mechanical eyebrows (why does he have those anyway, thought Red), rose further and further up his metal scalp with each word. He obviously had head the rumor, but like any rational being, had chosen to ignore it. When it looked like the prisoner was about to butt in, the Tallest hastily spoke over him. "Your payment, should you suceed, is the galaxy in which this planet, this "Earth," is located."

"A whole galaxy? What's the catch? Will the government nuke me the second I make myself heard?"

Red's huge crimson eyes bored into Megatron's faintly whirring ones. "That's the thing. It doesn't even have a government."

"An un-unified galaxy you haven't conquered yet? Somehow I-"

"We only just discovered it," Red said, waving a pronged claw. "It's in the Great Unknown. Ten years to get there at standard hyperspeed, and everything."

The metallic prisoner made no move. "Will I be taking standard speed?"

"Well, of course not. Top of the line invader-level. You'll be there in six months."

Megatron shifted his body to full height, like an ogre, his armor calling to mind skin plated in mollusks. He reached out a diamond-hard hand. "Not that I have a choice... but, given the circumstances; _Primus,_ do you have a deal."

_NERV-Germany, 8:20 PM:_

"Where am I? Who are you? What are you doing? Whatthehell. !"

Zim rattled off the usual questions and lightspeed, not noticing or caring if they had any effect. Five scientists, crouching around the fifteen-inch glass window surveying their dangerous project, un-bated their breath. Said breath came heavily, now, as they witnessed their success. Well, their _probable_ success. There was still the hurdle of control over EVA unit 05, now given the soul Membrane had discovered, and remained tight-lipped about.

The professor in question (he was technically a PHD, but the public was used to the almost royal title) tapped on the glass like a screaming child harassing a fish. His breath was a secret under his collar, his eyes a mystery behind one-way opaque goggles. Membrane Maltenson seemed to know more than everything that was going on at any given situation, as if he has stumbled upon the cure for ignorance himself. But he didn't know the future, among many other things, and how sympathetic linking would work out with the Sixth Child was anyone's guess. The thing was already in berserk mode. He had feared such an alien willpwer would be unhampered by any typical evangelion's mental restraints, but that fear was in the abstract. Membrane really worried about loosing his grip on foresight every once in a while. He didn't fret too much over his sanity, grip wise, but that was just plain denial.

"And you got this soul where…?" said one of the associates, unblinking, too distracted by the thrashing of Unit 05 in its restraints to realize how ridiculously casual the term "soul" was used nowadays in a scientific context.

"I've always said classified information is the worst kind," Said Membrane, "One of my many slogans. But this is no time for sloganeering, catchphrasing, or any other reliance on emptily idealistic words. You are not to know."

The previous speaker– Dr. Austvern, said his nametag – Nodded absently, still morbidly fascinated by Zim's thrashing around in his new body. Membrane pondered the coexistence of two minds, one in PAK, one in body, before the frail little creature had died, and he had installed the backup intellect onto an evangelion. It was a philosophical thing he had never considered before, though he had had the opportunity. Never had too much time for abstractions. He had a public image to keep up, both for the world, and for the family- and to himself, to some extent.

He wondered; would the little defective realize, once he looked in mirror? Would he piece together any clues? Or was the invader too narrow-minded and self-absorbed to logically conclude the obvious; that the designer (who happened to be Membrane) had to have known what an Irken looked like _before_ Zim was discovered, in order to incorporate it into the EVA's face in time. Ah, well, his cover wouldn't be blown, he was sure. Only four people on this cursed earth knew what an Irken was, and Gendo had just learned today.

Membrane slipped away from the enthralled audience of Zim's histrionic fit. He slunk quietly into the shadows. The father (should he be putting quote marks around that?) of Dib slunk into his private quarters. Forty long years of this identity, he thought, as he pulled one skin off, revealing another. The professor, stowing away his ludicrous wig, his mechanical gloves, and his sunglass-goggles, straightened up to full height and surveyed his mirror. He didn't care of the security risks, he could just kill anyone who entered.

Ex-Allmighty Tallest Spork needed to be reminded of who he was.

_Dib's Room 9:32 PM:_

When Shinji crossed the threshold, of Dib's claustrophobic quarters, it was as if he'd fallen through a tear in reality. Gone was the prim lifelessness of Ritsuko's apartment, replaced by all manner of indiscernible posters, odd scents, and a large quantity of humming apparatus'. The place was almost pitch black, the curtains and shutters drawn.

"Congradulations on you and your sister's defeat of Ramiel, today. I don't know what I'll do when I have to face an Angel." When Dib proved distracted, he continued. "I hope you don't mind, Maltenson-San, but Misato suggested I do an overnight. I never agreed to it, but she kind of insisted, and, well… her car went off."

"Tough lady, huh?" Dib questioned, leaning… quirkily (?) over his musty keyboard. "I don't mind. More time to brief you."

Shinji sat down as casually as he could, which was rather stiff, and fixed his eyes on the floor like he wanted nothing more than to cover the place in disinfectant spray.

"Home sweet home," Dib smiled manically, for lack of a better word, possibly mistaking Shinji's distain for interest. A blue glow illuminated his face in the worst way possible, while the humming underscored the American's nose-whistle. Dear god, Ikari almost felt safer being yelled at by a tiny green man.

After an unsettling while, Dib went to tapping purposely on one of the many keyboards. He shifted the monitor Shinji's way, catching the Japanese by surprise in with the unhealthy looking glow.

When Shinji's eyes had adjusted, he saw flashes, a slideshow, of something incoherent and grainy. Greyscale aliens, faded people dressed as aliens, something that maybe was bigfoot, and a cereal mascot vampire all danced on the screen.

"Uhhh… It's all moving a little fast for me… In more ways than one," Ikari gulped.

"Huh? Oh, let me fix that. Let's see… you just connect the sparkplug with this here," Dib said as he fiddled with some yet-as unseen mass of wires. "No, that isn't- but how- oh, F_ it."

He threw down whatever he had in his hands, and, visibly annoyed, reached under a maroon seat cushion. "We'll have to go without multimedia for now," the Maltenson boy grumbled.

He brought out some manila envelopes, each sticky with what Shinji hoped, in the faded light, was some kind of dried sauce.

"Let's see… oh my," blushed Shinji as he opened one.

Dib's already saucer-like eyes grew even wider, like a Bush Baby's. "Wrong folder, wrong folder, give that here. GIVE THAT HERE."

So that probably wasn't sauce. And Shinji called _himself _F_ed up on some days.

"I w-won't judge," Ikari stammered, for fear of what judging would bring. Dib's face was as red as a beat, but he could pull a pretty threatening scowl.

"Right," Maltenson grumbled. "_These _are the Zim Case files."

He found some similar, non-crusty folders. Shinji flipped through them warily, squinting in the minimal illumination, and suspicious that he would see more… taboo subjects.

He did not. Instead, the files contained a few blurry snapshots of the green alien in question, and plenty of illegible notes. One of the photos had an odd, robotic creature, half-obscured by the frame.

"That's his 'dog'," Dib said when Ikari's gaze lingered. "It's actually some kind of mechanical assistant. Like a minion."

It looked rather Kawaii, in Shinji's opinion; but he didn't want to confuse the Gaijin, so he kept silent.

"Now, how did you reach the same conclusion as yours truly?" Dib said, with the air of one trying desperately to sound calm and collected. He was shivering in excitement, for god's sake.

Shinji took a deep breath. Finding this did nothing about anything, he resolved to stop beating around the bush and told his new… "friend" the story.

Dib's jaw made a slow pilgrimage to the floor as Shinji's tale went on, pausing for a brief second to question about arm-control-nerves.

"This is…" the American stammered when the Japanese was through. "You have to be the sanest civilian I've met to have that kind of close contact!"

Ikari decided to ignored "sanest" and focused on the latter. "What do you mean by civilian?" he asked skeptically.

"Not in the swollen eyeball network. Which is why I brought you here tonight. You'll be a civilian no longer," Dib smiled. It looked like his cheeks were going to split. Shinji wanted to through up again. What was with his life?

Like, what was with it?

_Berlin, 3:23 PM: _

"Of course I always thought it was pronounced "seal". And I thought, why name a cult after a seal? But then I remembered that it was spelled differently. So then I asked you how it was pronounced. And here we are!"

"Mm-hmm."

"Say, you seem like sort of a grouchy-greta. I bet you're reeeeal at being stoic. Let's have a staring contest! Okay, one, two, three, GO!"

The frenetic red-haired boy seemed not to notice Takris wasn't looking his way. The one SEELE called The Angel of Free Will hadn't had much of a history with humans, and wondered if this one would explode if she did the wrong thing. No one told her the kids would be this difficult to handle.

"So you're from America, are you?"

"Yeah. Is German your first language? 'Cause if so, you're real good with that English accent."

"Weeeell, I've had some time to study," Takris yawned. She was trying to give out any signal possible that she was not interested in conversing with a hyperactive optimist that had just chatted her up all of a sudden at the fountain. Was this some kind of human ritual? Was sudden small talk with Strangers commonplace? God, she hoped not. Maybe this kid had some strange monkey-disorder.

The boy seemed to have forgotten his little staring game, or whatever, and fingered the camera around his neck as he grinned. "What other languages to you speak?"

"Oh, a little Latin, a little Hebrew," Takris bragged. "I only know English because it's the Lingua Franca, and I just now finished Japanese, because that's where I'm off to, soon."

"Wow! That's sooo talented," chirped the kid, now shaking vertically like a sledgehammer. "What's your name? Mine's Keef. I'm fourteen."

"Takris, but you can call me Tak." She batted an eyelash dismissively. "I'm the same age... and would you please-"

"Takris!"

A stiff man walked brusquely out of the crowd, adjusting his sandy hair and reflective sunglasses. "Takris, what is the meaning of this? Did you try to ditch Mr. Lorenz _purposefully_?" he barked. "You know how ill he is."

Tak rolled her eyes as best she could. How did illness enter into it? "I'm just enjoying the basic human contact I've been denied for years. Do you _**disapprove**__?_" Keef looked confused; they were talking in German. Grateful for the opportunity, she stormed off with the fuming, yet… unnerved bodyguard of her guardian. Tak couldn't tell who frightened him more- her or his Employer.

They paced through the crowded historic district, and found Keel Lorenz tapping a pencil firmly under a café umbrella. His scowl grew stronger with every step his colleagues took. Though the man's unsettling cybernetic visor obscured his eyes, Takris could tell, in every twitch of his immeasurably lined face that the head of SEELE was _ticked_. And she loved it.

"I remember when this neighborhood was a red light district," he seethed, in a pathetic attempt at small talk. "Now it's a bustling tourist center. Second impact hasn't been all post-apocalyptic dystopia, as people thought, once we began crowding inland." He spoke like a rehearsed orator, or at least a man trying to sound like one, voice wavering in a priestly way. The bodyguard melted awkwardly into the background.

"So,,," Tak dragged her next statement out, playfully avoiding eye contact. "It seems you have a little more on your mind than my hooky."

He sighed hoarsely and angry, as if he'd just noticed her. "EVA unit 05 is malfunctioning. Your trip to Japan has been delayed, Sixth Child."

Tak's face fell by a centimeter, then was hastily refitted into a mask of arrogance. "Well, is that so? Is the Irken Scum less dormant than you thought it would be?"

Lorenz pinched his nose. "I am beginning to doubt Dr. Ikari's Kissmesis theory."

"We won't know until I slip into the cockpit, Sir," she pushed, eyebrows fluttering worryingly. Keel looked confused.

"…Well, yes, but you know that we can't risk such a potentially hazardous contact experiment." When Takris gritted her teeth, he grumbled, "Come now, Sixth Child, Angel of Free Will, you know how implausible a high sync-rate with a soul that you_ loath_ sounds."

"If Doctor Ikari and Professor Membrane believe in it, than I do," She said, firmly. "I know you like touting me as an all-purpose pilot, but really, what is the highest sync-rate I got with a soulless evangelion?"

Lorenz rubbed his temples, looking dejected. "I don't remember exactly, but-"

"-It was barely passable," Tak finished for him. "The loathing I feel for all Irkenkind will manifest itself in a glorious battle performance. Hell, it's almost all the _desire_ to put the green bastards in their place that makes me feel like it'll work. You're just skeptical because you don't know what kind of a wrench this new factor will through into the works."

"You surely are in no short supply of willpower, and perception" Lorenz admitted, sighing. "Bartholemew," he said, looking at the bodyguard. "You can start time up again."

The previously static crowds once again moved. Takris raised an eyebrow.

"You can never have enough privacy, my dear," Keel said. "It's not like this technology's in short supply. Well, I suppose it is. Ah, my soup is here. Took them long enough."


End file.
